


again

by Questionable_Alliance (Zacharie_Smackarie)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body wash as lube, Established Relationship, Grandparent/Grandchild Incest, Incest, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Procrastinating on finishing this haha, Shower Sex, Showers, Underage Sex, Unfinished, sin - Freeform, trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zacharie_Smackarie/pseuds/Questionable_Alliance
Summary: "Take a s-shower with me, Morty.""A-Again?" He asks, barely a whisper, feels his skin prickle and flush with self-conscious anticipation. Rick makes a throaty noise, akin to a laugh."I-Isn't that what you w-wanted?"edit: I realized I left in an unfinished paragraph at the end im sorry haha





	again

**Author's Note:**

> Not finished cause I'm a piece of shit yk  
> This has been sitting on my tablet for 2+ months now, untouched, figured I'd just post as is.  
> If people actually like it, I'll finish it ig.

“Take a s-shower with me, Morty.”

It's barely past midnight, and it's dark and his bed is really cozy with warmth but he hasn't found even a trace of sleep yet, but Rick shuffles into his room with only the noise of frabric accompanying him and _knows_ he's awake in some mysterious way that is generally normal.

He’s right next to Morty’s head when he says it, his voice low and sweet with this request, this demand, a statement. Morty takes a moment to process it, strains his eyes to see in the darkness, but can only make out Rick’s crouched figure by the moonlight barely drifting in from his window curtains and casting Rick’s back in soft hues. Can only make out the smell of oil and rust, the natural smell of Rick Sanchez. What he's grown so used to.

“A-Again?” He asks, barely a whisper, feels his skin prickle and flush with self-conscious anticipation. Rick makes a throaty noise, akin to a laugh. _Quiet now,_ he reminds himself, but feels his heart racing already.

 _“I-Isn't that what you w-wanted?”_ he whispers against Morty’s ear, _hush hush,_ all warm breath and humor. It makes Morty shudder, emit a slightly alarmed noise under his breath. Then he snakes his fingers around the boys uncovered hand, so warm, and pulls him up out of the bed. Morty stumbles a bit, but rights himself, takes the moment to intertwine their fingers.

“ _Yes, please.”_ The boy breaths, ever so meekly, presses up against Rick’s side and radiates heat like a furnace. He never realized just how cold he was.

_We’ll burn together, then. Burn me up._

Rick leads them out of the room ( _tiptoe, tiptoe),_ down the hall, to the bathroom. Morty starts stripping as soon as the door is locked, so unusual of him, get it done and over with. Rick watches with interest, feels arousal pooling in his gut _, a truly monstrous and sick feeling_. When Morty is done ( _soft skin, flushed so pretty, look at his thighs, his hips, still claimed, no worries_ ), Rick strips too. His coat, shirt, pants, socks, all thrown into a heap with Morty’s.

Morty moves close, feels dirty with the way they both watch each other, trails his fingers down Rick’s chest. He looks up into the older mans eyes, his grandfathers eyes, and feels the embarrassment creep into his veins as his blood pools. Rick brings a hand up to play in the boys curls, and for a moment they just stare, without the slightest hesitancy.

“L-Let’s get in.” Rick is first to break the moment, to turn around and start the shower, let it warm, the first to step in. Morty follows suit, and focuses on the way his skin shudders when the water hits his skin, rolls down his body, and when Rick runs his fingers down his sides. He takes the initiative, can’t bare to just stand around and be so vuneralble, wraps his arms around Rick’s ( _his grandfathers)_ neck, and pulls him downwards into a promiscuous ( _Rick is quick to lick his way into his mouth, quick to make it dirty, but the entire situation was already dirty)_ kiss. There isn’t the slightest trace of alcohol on his tongue for once.

The water is warm, almost scalding, beating down on his shoulders, but Morty is flush against him and that’s what warms his core. He backs the boy up against the tile wall, watches him advert his gaze, grips his hips hard ( _leave prints, more prints, so much more_ ), grinds their hips together in a way that's makes the boy gasp. ( _such a sweet sound.)_ Morty melts with the contact, the friction, but all too quickly finds himself wanting more, _wanting to feel full._ It’s embarrassing, the thoughts alone make him flush to the point he’s sure he can't flush no more. But he voices this want, though almost barely.

Rick is more than happy to oblige.

_But not yet._

Instead, Rick backs up, grabs a bottle of shampoo, pops the cap. Morty takes the cue to wet his hair, and Rick takes his time with pouring the shampoo on his head when he’s done. Morty turns around, basks in the feeling of Rick beginning to knead the shampoo through his hair. _He's being so gentle this time,_ he muses, the concept mildly shocking, but no less enjoyable. It’s heavily relaxing.

Rick stops, after a few silent moments, slides his hands down Morty’s neck, his Morty. He gives a protective squeeze, then creeps his hands further down, to the boys chest. Morty gasps with the sensation of his nipples being flicked, twisted, pulled. It’s unexpected and surprising, makes his blood drain south. The older man takes quick notice of this and glides his right hand downwards to Morty’s slowly growing erection, grasps it carefully in his hand. The noises his grandson makes, the way his dick hardens in his hand, the way his body shudders at the stimulation, it’s so shockingly beautiful and _so wrong._ Rick takes a brief pause, hesitates for a split second like every other time, but Morty leans back against his chest and erases all sense of hesitancy.

“Turn ar- turn around, _babe_.” he coos, and Morty obeys; turns around, parts his legs instictively. Rick grabs some body wash off to the side, absolutely convenient. He pops the cap open, dribbles the liquid over his fingers. The aroma is sweet, kind of fruity. But he’s sure there’s nothing as sweet as the sheepish sound Morty makes when he brings his oil slick fingers to his hole, taps gently at the muscle, pushes two fingers inward. He knows Morty can take it, after all it’s not the first time, _nor will it be the last._

And he does, he takes it and pushes back all too greedily into the touch, savors the way Rick scissors his fingers, stretches him out, the contrast of the cool tile against his burning skin. He craves more, and the feeling is so slutty, so shameful. Rick loves this hidden side, a mix of contridicting innocence and stomach thightening need.

He finally obliges.

Rick pulls his fingers out, teasingly slow, trails them up the boys upright cock. Morty gives him a pitiful look, begging in it’s non-vocal form. Rick gives him a sly smile, a cocky upturn of the lips, and Morty obeys its silent request, its demand.

He begs.

“Oh jeez, Ri-Rick.. Come on, _please_ ,” He starts, barely above a whisper, voice cracking with frustration and embarrassment, but it’s satisfying enough for Rick. He’s sure he’s dragged this out far enough, and reaches for the body wash to slick himself up.

“Of course, _babe_.”


End file.
